Mîbo orch, Meleth
by Linfindel
Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor are enemies first and friends second. Everyone knows this. So why does Lindir insist that they are in love? ErestorGlorfindel slash.
1. Insanity THINKS It Knows Best

DISCLAIMER: We don't own the _Lord of the Rings,_ so please don't sue us.

WARNING: Glorfindel/Erestor, maybe Elladan/Lindir slash. You no like, you no read, okay?

Chapter 1. Insanity Thinks It Knows Best

By Eithelien and Narthoron

Lindir beckoned Elladan across the hall. While the bemused Peredhel looked on, Lindir flattened himself against the wall and sidled along its length making no noise whatsoever. "Come, Elladan!" he hissed. "And keep your voice down!"

Elladan rolled his eyes, but copied his eccentric friend. They walked down three halls in this manner, and every time they reached a doorway, Lindir peered in, smirked, then jumped soundlessly across the opening. After about ten minutes, they started hearing raised voices. If Elladan had thought Lindir's expression couldn't grow any more smug, he was wrong.

Elladan paused. Ai, Valar. . . . He _knew_ those voices.

"Glorfindel! I don't see how you can just . . . _do _that!"

"Quite easily, my friend. All it takes is-"

"I do not want to know!"

Elladan glanced at Lindir. The minstrel looked back, laughter clearly reflected in his eyes.

Elladan raised his eyebrows in imitation of his father, and Lindir winked.

"It is as I said," he whispered conspiratorially . "Can you not hear the love?"

Elladan's mouth dropped open. He'd known his friend was insane, but, well . . . he'd have to have a word with Cook about the wine at last night's supper. There was no possible explanation except severe intoxication.

"Lindir," he finally forced out. "You are crazy. All _I _hear is quarreling."

Lindir pressed a finger to his lips once again, and they continued down the hall in his uniquely stealthy manner. The shouting grew louder and louder.

CRASH!

"ERESTOR!"

"GLORFINDEL!"

"How _could _you manage to topple that candelabra? As you have been telling me for the past half hour, it is over four thousand years old-"

"Incorrigible moldy relic of the Age of Stars! You are worse than both of Elrond's sons combined, and they do not-"

"I AM WORSE THAN BOTH OF THE TWINS?"

There was the sound of a slap and Elladan winced. Then something occurred to him. _Are they speaking about me? _He was ready to get offended, then heard....

"WELL, YOU ARE MORE- MORE- _ECCENTRIC_ THAN THAT MINSTREL ELLADAN IS SO FOND OF . . . THAT _LINDIR_!"

Dead silence. He leaned over to Lindir, who was looking startled and, oddly, _pleased_ with himself. "You never hear good things about yourself when you eavesdrop, do you?"

"No," Lindir agreed, "You don't. But it's educational, all the same."

Elladan imagined he could hear Erestor's knuckles cracking. He wondered which candelabra Glorfindel had managed to break - because it was always Glorfindel. He didn't believe the seneschal's accusations for a minute.

A low hiss filled the hall. Then, through a door at the opposite end, a dark-haired Elf in a dark red robe came storming out. His ears were almost steaming, and he swept past the two younger elves without even noticing them. Elladan caught a glimpse of his face, and was a little shocked. Were those tears? Then he was gone, and all was quiet. Lindir grabbed the back of Elladan's tunic and yanked him into a room to his right.

This was a wise move, it transpired, because about three seconds later, another Angry Elf trotted past. This one was blond, and although angry, he also looked a bit guilty and slightly ashamed of himself.

Lindir sank into a chair, one of many placed around a long table at the center of the room. The walls were covered with maps and lists, and a huge bookcase was set against one wall. This was the Lesser Council Chamber, and Elladan remembered many a day when he, Lindir, Lothvaen, and Elrohir had hidden from Angry Adults in their youth.

Lindir shook his head, "Lovers' quarrel."

"Lovers' quarrel?" said Elladan weakly. "That sounded more like a war between the dark forces."

Lindir grinned, "You will see my friend, you will see." He reached into a drawer under the table, and pulled out a stack of playing cards. "Fancy a game?"

-----

Erestor opened his door, almost blinded by his tears. Why did he cry? Why did he always have to cry? The dark haired elf sat on his chair, and contemplated the argument that had transpired earlier. It had started out as a simple thing, an argument over redecoration. Then it had turned into a full blown war. If Elrond ever got wind of this. . . . He winced at the thought of the lecture he and Glorfindel would receive. Glorfindel! How _could_ that elf just . . . just accuse him of breaking something he hadn't? Nothing really made him upset -- annoyed, yes, but that elf.... Why did he always get under his skin? And what was worse, why did he always have to cry when it happened? He was six thousand years old, and most definitely _not_ an elfling!

There was a knock at the door, and Erestor quickly brushed his hand across his eyes, making the tears disappear. "Come in," He said, voice even.

An elf entered and said, "Lord Elrond requests you in his study."

Erestor smiled bitterly. Elrond wasn't the Lord of Imladris for nothing. He knew what was what and when it happened. There were very few secrets to be kept from Elrond Peredhil, son of Eärendil the Blessed in his own realm.

Erestor sighed and stood up. "I will be there momentarily."

The other elf bowed, and left.

Erestor walked over to a basin, and splashed his face with cold water. Once he was sure that there was no trace of tears -- it would not do for the rest of the realm to know he had been crying. The Advisor _never _cried. Ever. It was just a known fact. He opened the door, and made his way to Elrond's study, which was a goodly distance away from his rooms. Perhaps that was intentional. With Glorfindel's quarters situated in the same wing, their end of the Last Homely House had the habit of being very noisy. Erestor was not usually an especially vocal person, but something about Glorfindel often made him want to scream. He was a little bit like High King Ereinion Gil-Galad in that respect.

Erestor stood just outside of Elrond's study, and was about to knock when he heard voices. "Glorfindel, this is the last time! I can hear you both all the way down the hall! And I am not the only one!"

"I apologize, my lord," said the other. "I am . . . unused to having to keep my arguments at a reasonable volume. In the hidden city . . . "

"You are no longer there!" Erestor could hear the sound of Elrond's fist hitting the table. "Those days are over, Glorfindel! As I have told you time and time again, _you must accept that!_ But you will not. In fact, I think you believe that you _cannot._"

There was a stony silence, and Erestor squeezed his eyes shut, leaning against the wall. Though he was utterly confused and very sure he shouldn't be, he _did_ know that this was a conversation he should not be overhearing. If he hadn't been so befuddled, he later reflected, he would have found it quite informative.

Elrond's voice -- much softer this time -- broke through his clouded reverie. "My friend, when will you let go of what was?"

Glorfindel drew in a ragged breath. "Perhaps when I may_ forget_ what was. When I may forget the seven great gates of my city, forget the banners flying from the turrets of white stone . . . forget the faces of the great lords, of the ladies and children . . . every time I remember, Elrond, I cannot also forget the sight of the ravaged and ruined. When I forget what was. . . . I fear that may never happen."


	2. Ignoring The Signs

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns _The Lord of the Rings._

Warning: This content contains slash. This means romance between two people (in this case, male people) of the same gender. If this is not to your liking, the please leave. We are not forcing you to read it, so there is no real need to flame. We are entitled to our beliefs, as you are entitled to yours. If you _really have a problem _with this, then send us an email. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Chapter 2: Ignoring The Signs

"Glorfindel. . ." Elrond paused for a moment. "Come in, Erestor. I do not want to keep you waiting, and I may continue with my conversation with Glorfindel . . . later."

Erestor silently cursed. How in the name of Mandos did Elrond know he had been there? And for how long?

----------

As Erestor entered the study, Glorfindel looked at him. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Of all Elves. . . . It had to be _Erestor _who heard the pain he had kept bottled inside for so long. He avoided looking at the smaller advisor, and concentrated on his hands. They were gripping the sides of the chair, his knuckles were white and he was half standing. Then another though hit him. How much had he heard? Did he know?

-------

"Elrond, before you begin to lecture me, how in the name of Mandos did you know I was waiting?"

Glorfindel seemed to start, and Erestor looked at him, a little concerned despite their earlier argument.

"Glorfindel, are you all right?"

The elf pretended not to hear him, and Elrond ground his teeth. Or rather, he would have if it wouldn't have destroyed all dignity remaining to him at this point.

"Yo- you wanted to see me, Elrond?" Erestor said a little awkwardly.

The elf lord seemed to clear his head, and said distractedly "Yes, sit down, mellon nin."

Erestor quickly sat. Glorfindel still didn't look at him.

"About your . . . argument, earlier in the day-"

"Well, we. . . ." Glorfindel started to say. He was then treated to a severe death glare.

"I care naught for what started it, nor for what made it escalate to such an extreme volume." His voice started to rise. "What I _do_ care about is that my most trusted advisors - and two of my best friends - have been seen arguing _everywhere_ in such an unseemly manner for this past century! Have you no shame?"

"Well, we-" Glorfindel said again.

"There is no excuse for you two to be behaving in such a manner!"

"My lord," Erestor said calmly. He had an idle second to wonder why Elrond's shouting didn't really upset him -- yet Glorfindel's did -- before he continued. "Glorfindel and I are . . . rather vocal people. When we argue, we unleash all the pent up anger we have built inside. We are still friends. . . . Aren't we, 'Fin?"

The blond elf didn't answer. He was still intent upon his hands.

"Fin?" Erestor whispered, "We are still friends, right? Aren't we?" His tone seemed slightly vulnerable. Inwardly, he kicked himself for sounding so needy.

"Aye," The other looked up at him with unreadable eyes. "We are friends."

Erestor felt an inexplicable sense of relief wash over him. He hadn't realized how much he valued Glorfindel's friendship until that moment.

Elrond cleared his throat. "Fighting friends or not, this cannot -- nay -- _will not_ continue!"

The two others bowed their heads.

"If you must argue, do it quietly, and if you are unable to do that, go outside where you will scare only the birds, and not the guests."

"As you wish, Lord Elrond." Glorfindel mumbled. He stood up, and left the room. Almost slamming the door behind him. Erestor exchanged a worried look with Elrond. Glorfindel _never_ mumbled! He excused himself quickly, and followed after the other.

Erestor caught up with Glorfindel at the blond elf's door. "Glorfindel, please . . . wait!"

"What is it, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked tiredly.

"What is wrong? You do not seem to be yourself."

"Excuse me for saying so, but this is odd coming from the elf who was shouting at me a few minutes ago."

Erestor flushed, then felt angry with himself for doing so. "I was only trying to help!"

Glorfindel stepped closer to him, and Erestor moved backwards against the wall. "Help?" He said bitterly. "You have no idea what you are saying."

Erestor was closer to Glorfindel then he had ever been before. The bright blue eyes of his companion held his own dark ones. They were flashing with anger. No, not anger, barely contained rage. "Glorfindel. . . I"

"You know not of what you speak!"

Erestor felt tears pricking at his eyes. _Get a hold of yourself Erestor, he is angry, but not at you. Crying will not only shatter your own self respect, but any he has for you. _"I was going to say 'sorry'. There is no point in shouting at me." He said, trying not to let his voice break.

Glorfindel paused in his anger. Was Erestor trying not to cry? He had never seen the advisor succumb to an emotional breakdown before. Why now? He frowned.

Erestor, thinking the frown was meant for him, tried not to cower against the wall.

Glorfindel stared at him, perplexed. Why was Erestor acting so strangely? His eyes softened and became a calmer blue. Then he looked into Erestor's face and took a deep breath. "I am sorry, my friend. I did not mean to. . ." He broke off. Erestor was still looking at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence. Why had he never noticed Erestor's long lashes? "I was still angry and . . ." Erestor's black eyes held his, and Glorfindel unconsciously shuffled a little closer. "I was . . . wrong, to try to blame you for what you did not do. It was a dishonorable elfling's trick and. . ." He trailed off again. The two were closer than ever, and Glorfindel stood a few inches taller then the dark haired advisor. "What I mean is . . ." For Elbereth's sake, why couldn't he finish a sentence? "I am sorry, mellon nin. Can you forgive me?"

Erestor smiled, and Glorfindel felt an odd feeling in his stomach. "Yes, mellon nin. I understand that you were . . . upset before we began speaking, and I did nothing to improve the matter. I am glad you still count me as a friend."

"Were you really that worried?" Glorfindel asked, slightly bemused.

Erestor paused for a moment. "Yes, yes I was," he said finally. Glorfindel seemed to glimpse something in his face for a moment, before it was gone, and the diplomat mask was back in place.

Glorfindel stared at the other. Dark wavy hair, tied up in braids. Slender form a little below him in height and fierce dark eyes. Why had he never considered Erestor especially attractive? He really was, now that Glorfindel took the time to notice.

Erestor felt Glorfindel's eyes moving over him, and he felt helpless. What was it about the other? Why was he so emotionally insecure where he was concerned? Glorfindel moved a little closer, and slowly reached out.

Glorfindel watched his hand move of its own accord to gently stroke Erestor's hair. The Advisor closed his eyes for a moment, and seemed to almost lean into the touch. Then, a loud noise came from down the hall and the two elves jumped apart. "I. . . ." Glorfindel stammered.

Erestor stared at him, shocked. He was about to open his mouth to say something when Elrond's voice came thundering down the hall.

"Erestor! Glorfindel! In my study! _Now!_" The two looked at each other. It was never a wise thing to keep Elrond waiting. They hurried in the direction of the shouts, the encounter forgotten. For now.

It appeared that the (former) candelabra was no longer a secret.

-----

Authors' Notes:

Wow, three reviews in a very short time! Thank you all!!!

Eithelien will be going to the East Coast for three weeks starting Saturday the seventh, and there will be no updates in that time. Narthoron will be gone from the tenth to the fifteenth. . . . maybe she'll post a couple one-shots though.

Reviews are mothers' milk to us! (Hint, hint) Thank you, again!


	3. Elrond's Rapidly Developing Madness

DISCLAIMER: It still belongs to Master Tolkien.

**Chapter 3: Elrond's Rapidly Developing Madness**

"_You broke my Candelabra_!"

"Um . . . yes?" Glorfindel said weakly.

"It was an accident." Erestor replied, voice as smooth and unruffled as ever. There was no hint of the emotional turmoil of a moment ago.

The esteemed lord of Imladris uttered a few words that are best left unsaid, and whirled around, throwing his hands up in the air. "_Why me_?" he cried despairingly. "What on Arda did _I _ever do to deserve this?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Glorfindel replied blandly.

Elrond gave him a Look.

Erestor gave him a Look.

They both faced the blond elf and raised their eyebrows.

Glorfindel shivered and cowered back in his seat, to allow Elrond continuation of his rant.

"You yell! You shout! You break my ancient artifacts . . ."

"Incorrigible moldy relics of the Age of Stars. . . ." Erestor muttered

Glorfindel smirked, and Elrond turned on him.

"Do you find this. . . _amusing_, Seneschal?" he asked in a deadly whisper. Glorfindel could now understand why Gil-Galad had made the Peredhil his herald. Elrond was. . . scary, when angry.

He was currently very angry.

Very, very angry.

"No, Lord Elrond. I find absolutely nothing amusing about this matter." he replied carefully

"And what of you, Advisor?" Elrond asked Erestor, carefully scrutinizing him for any show of amusement.

The Chief advisor's face was as stoic as ever as he replied, "Nothing, my Lord."

Elrond grunted -- a most unelflike sound, and stared at the pair of them. Hard. "You both have gone entirely two far. I don't know what is it about you two that irks the other, but I tell you now, that _this nonsense must cease._ Immediately!"

"Of course, my Lord Elrond." Glorfindel said meekly. "No shouting, no fighting, and no breaking of objects."

"I will agree to that." Erestor said quietly.

Elrond stared at them, at loss with what to do with such a show of obedience -- he had been expecting an argument -- when he noticed something. _Why does Erestor keep sending glances Glorfindel's way?_

Erestor caught Elrond's puzzled look, and raised an eyebrow. Elrond stared at him, and Erestor slowly acquired a barely noticeable pink tinge.

Elrond concealed a smirk -- just barely -- and directed the two of them to leave his study before they caused him any more strife. The two rose from their seats, and bid him good day on their way out. Elrond hesitated then called, "Erestor, a word?"

Erestor slowly turned, and there was something akin to dread in his eyes. "Yes, Lord Elrond?"

"Come and sit down again, my friend. Tell me," he leaned forward. "How long?"

Erestor looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"How long have you had these . . . feelings for our esteemed Seneschal?"

Erestor looked shocked. "I'm most sorry, my lord, but you must be mistaken! I have no _feelings_ for Glorfindel."

Elrond looked at him.

"What I mean is- I- Not _those_ kind of feelings. I mean, I love him -- like a brother, of course -- I . . . how you came to this conclusion is completely beyond me." He stammered, and nervously bit his lip.

Elrond looked amused. _This is perhaps the first time I've ever heard Erestor stammer in my life! And I have lived a long time._ "You are sure, my friend?"

"Quite sure." Erestor said firmly.

"I mean, he _is_ rather attractive, with that long blond hair, flowing down his back, those blue eyes that-"

"Lord Elrond! I can _assure_ you that I have no feelings for Glorfindel other then that of a deep -- if sometimes, somewhat strained -- friendship! As your advisor, I would advise you to put these ridiculous ideas out of your head immediately, and leave me and my business alone!"

The expression on Elrond's face told him that he had gone too far, but Erestor was beyond caring. "My friend, I was just trying to help . . . ."

"There are is nothing I need help with! I promise you that!" Then he stalked out of Elrond's study, muttering to himself.

-------------

Glorfindel was slowly meandering down the hallway, when an angry Erestor brushed passed him, robes flapping as he went forward in what seemed to be a great haste. "Erestor, is something wrong?" the golden-haired elf called after him.

Erestor turned, eyes blazing, and Glorfindel regretted his words. It appeared the chief advisor was not in the best of moods at the moment. "No, _nothing_ is wrong!" He spat out. "Other then our lord's rapidly developing insanity, of course!"

"Erestor, I don't quite understand what you mean."

"Well, _of course_ you wouldn't understand! You're not being accused of-" His voice was escalating, and Glorfindel interrupted him.

"Erestor, as much as I would like for you to vent out your frustration for all to hear, I would deem it best that you do so in a secluded spot where Lord Elrond will be unable to accuse you of breaking your promise a few seconds after leaving his study."

Erestor was suddenly filled with dread. "_NO!_"

A very surprised Glorfindel stared back at him. "No . . . what?"

At a loss, Erestor stared at him for a moment, emotions flashing in his dark eyes, then suddenly he turned and fled down the hall.

Glorfindel looked after him with an expression of complete bafflement. "What did I say?" he called after him but Erestor made no answer, nor did he turn back.

There was sigh a behind him, and Glorfindel turned to see Lindir looking after the dark haired elf with forlorn eyes.

--------------------------

Erestor stumbled ungracefully into his room, and slammed the door shut. Then he leaned against it, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. This emotional loss of control around Glorfindel was getting worse and worse by the day. _Why _it happened he had no idea -- Elrond's theory was preposterous, and thus not worth listening to -- but it had to stop. Immediately.

Then there was the shouting. He really should learn control himself better. (The thought that he had never lost his control like that before completely escaped his mind) _I should go and apologize._

He turned and reached for the handle of the door, then withdrew his hand. It was shaking, and there was an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach. _What is wrong with me? _He thought desperately.

He reached for the door handle again, but the feeling held him back again. It left a sour taste in his mouth, and as he slowly withdrew his hand once more, he recognized it for what it was.

Fear.

He, Erestor, the most trusted advisor of the lord of Imladris, former warrior and one who had fought battles before and after the last alliance, was afraid. Too scared to go and apologize to a friend he had known for thousands of years.

_It's only Glorfindel! _he told himself firmly.

_You lie, _the hidden part of his conscious told him flatly.

_What have I to lie about? _he asked it, shouting to himself in the place were none (except maybe the Lady Galadriel, and she was in Lothlórien) could hear.

_He is no longer 'Only Glorfindel',_ his conscious told him firmly.

There was no response he could think of for that.

Erestor leaned against the door again. He had never let his fear control him before. Why now? _No matter what this irrational fear is, it **won't** control me!_ And with that thought, he wrenched open the door, and went coursing off in the direction of Glorfindel's rooms.

---------

**Eithelien's Author's Note:**

When I got back from camp, I was extremely plesantly shocked to find _sixteen_ reviews for our first two chapters! Wow! Thank you, so much!

Lindir was feeling a bit left out, especially since Erestor and Glorfindel have been doing a whole lot of wandering around Elrond's study, but not much else. So he just _had _to make a short appearance. Many thanks to Narthoron -- she wrote the majority of this chapter.

**Narthoron's Author's Note:**

Yay! Reviews! And lot's of 'em! Thank you all! Sorry about the lack of updates -- the semester started, and we have been a bit busy in various places and various times. It will get better, because _despite _having zero classes together (grrr . . . .) we still can cause havoc in the hallways.

We're working on the next chapter as soon as we post this one. Promise.


	4. Bathing Woes

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien is still the proud owner of all characters in this fic, and as a gift, he can even have Lothvaen's wife too. Lothvaen (a.k.a. Figwit) belongs to the fandom in general.

WARNING: Slashiness! (and Erestor torture -- at least, for him it's torture)

Chapter Four: Bathing Woes

Erestor's robes flapped intimidatingly -- or so _he _thought -- as he strode purposefully down Glorfindel's corridor. He had never been able to fathom why all of Elrond's highest-ranking advisors were housed miles apart from one another. Glorfindel and Erestor for example, both occupied the West Wing, it was true. Unfortunately, Glorfindel was tucked into the most southern south corner of the West Wing, while Erestor was comfortably north, much closer to the rest of the Last Homely House. Bloody long trek in-between.

In fact, Erestor rather thought he would much prefer the side Glorfindel lived in to his own. Glorfindel's area of The House happened to face the waterfalls, while he, Erestor, was roomed next to Lothvaen, and his lady. They were a fairly new couple, and very much in love.

Poor Erestor was well aware of this, as they made their declarations known fairly frequently. This made sleeping difficult most nights. No, scratch that -- every night. In any case, Erestor much preferred the other side of the Last Homely House. The corridors down by Glorfindel's rooms were decorated with pictures of great cities of the first age -- the Havens of Sirion, and there was Vinyamar, and Gondolin before the sacking. The noise of the distant waterfall was also a lovely accompaniment to the sound of loud, bawdy singing-- wait.

Erestor stopped short, about one hundred yards away from Glorfindel's door. Bawdy singing? Usually, the only bawdy songs heard in Imladris came from various visiting Dúnedain.

But this . . . this was coming from Glorfindel's rooms. Erestor inched closer, and listened harder.

Oh, no. Not _that_ song. _Anything_ but that one. If anybody else should hear it. . . . Well. The ensuing gossip and loss of dignity would be on the whole undesirable -- for Glorfindel, at least.

A true friend would stop him, ignoring the possibility for pranks. And who was Erestor, if not a true friend?

Erestor sprinted the rest of the way to his friend's door, which he knew would not be locked. Glorfindel _never_ locked his doors. He threw it open dramatically, then navigated his way carefully through the mess that was Glorfindel's study. He inched through the doorway, then paused to listen. The sound was coming from a chamber off of the bedroom. Erestor drew a deep breath as he made his way to the door

"_Lord_ Glorfindel, what on Arda -- eep." The door to the chamber was not shut.

It was a bath chamber. Erestor had walked in on Lord Glorfindel in the _bath._

Why do the Valar hate me? Glorfindel's head was resting on the wall behind him and his extremely muscled chest was fully out of the water. His arms were cushioning his head, and his eyes were shut lazily with long lashes covering them as he sang his -- extremely bawdy -- song. _Oh, no._ Thankfully, the bath was full of bubbles, ensuring that, should Erestor chance to look -- _no. We shall _not _explore that mind track._

Glorfindel's eyes flew open, and he sat straight up. "_Ai -- _Erestor!" He sat back, letting out a long breath. Apparently the old warrior was not expecting to be startled in the bathtub. Perhaps he would from now on. Erestor would probably be forever on his guard also. He grimaced.

"Do you need something from me, Erestor?" With a sheer lack of modesty that set poor Erestor blushing from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, Glorfindel stood up, stretched, and awarded Erestor a lovely view of his backside while turning around to wipe his face on a convenient hand towel.

"Er," stammered the normally well-composed Elf, "er, ah, the song. . . ."

"Yes, don't you like it? You remember when that young injured Dúnadan taught it to my patrol -- what was his name? Sigilmir?" Glorfindel turned back around and grinned hugely. Erestor was struck dumb.

There were no bubbles now to hide the view -- but by the strength of will of his mother, Erestor would _not_ look down.

"Lovely th-- er, lovely, Glorfindel. I -- ah --" Glorfindel really did have lovely thighs . . . _don't look down!_ "-- ah, wanted to s-- that is, to apologize, I really do n--" _DON'T LOOK DOWN!_ "--that is, I really did not need to, that is. . . ." Erestor glared at the other Elf, but to his horror, felt his eyes drifting irrescapably downward. Worse, Glorfindel seemed completely unabashed by it all. He flipped his hair over one shoulder and gathered it together with a towel.

Erestor regained his ability to speak, at least temporarily. "Glorfindel, it is. . . ." _By Elbereth! Can you not keep your eyes and thoughts decent?_ ". . . .very distracting. . . ." _It cannot be this hard!_ ". . . .to speak toyoulikethis!"

And with that, he turned around and rushed out of the room. Even the back of his neck was smarting red.

Glorfindel paused in the act of drying his long golden hair to stare after the retreating elf as he tripped over several piles of who-knew-what laying around on Glorfindel's rather untidy study. "Erestor, you seem to get stranger by the day," he muttered to himself, as Erestor went sprawling. He shook his head, and stepped all the way out of the bathtub.

"Erestor . . . are you all right?" he asked concernedly. He strode into the room, and peered at the other elf. Erestor's long black hair was splayed out over his back, and he was facedown on the floor. Glorfindel knelt in front of him to help him up.

Erestor's eyes widened. _This is most definetly not my day, _he thought mournfully. Then, he realized that Glorfindel was still very naked. Still very naked and kneeling in front of him. _The Valar really must be angry at me for something, because I cannot think of any reason why-- Ai! Whomever taught modesty practices to Glorfindel was obviously not paying much attention to his progress!_ This then sparked an image of a young warrior Glorfindel continually running around whatever dwelling he lived in -- in the nude. _Where is he from, anyway?_

"Erestor?" Glorfindel questioned again.

Erestor let loose a lovely stream of dwarvish curses mostly concerning Glorfindel, his study, Glorfindel, and the state of his mental immagery in general. When he was through, Glorfindel looked at him, fairly impressed.

"I was not aware that you could speak thus," he told Erestor with a touch of admiration in his voice. "I only understood about half of what you said." He glanced around his study with a wistful expression. "Is it really that bad?"

"Yes," growled the advisor who was still facedown on the floor -- _and not planning to sit up any time soon!_ "You ought to clean up. Organize, Glorfindel -- does that penetrate?"

"I had been thinking that you came here to apologize or something similar to that," Glorfindel told him pointedly. "At least, that was the impression I got when you startled me in the bath."

This of course reminded Erestor of Glorfindel's current state of dress -- not that he had ever really forgotten completely. In retrospect, this was not a good thing, because Erestor blushed _again_. Then his blush deepened because of the previous blush. Had it not involved lifting his head, Erestor would have banged his head against the floor. Hard. Several times. He really had no dignity left to loose at this point anyway.

Glorfindel watched him closely. "You really need to work on your blush control," he told Erestor matter-of-factly as well as fairly unhelpfully. "I suppose being locked in the study all day makes you allergic to body form. We warriors bathe together quite often, you know."

Indignation conquered humility, and Erestor looked Glorfindel square in the eye and said hotly, "I was a warrior for many years, you know! I fought at Dagorlad and the battles preceeding it -- in fact, you commanded me --" Glorfindel snorted.

"And how many hundreds of years ago was that?" Silence on Erestor's front.

"I . . . did not especially enjoy it, Glorfindel. But it was needful, so I did my duty. Not like you brash barbarians who ride around kicking up mud and swinging sharp pointy things at each other all day."

Glorfindel laughed outright. "You were very good. It is a shame. But you ought to train with us more often, perhaps -- civilize us a bit."

"Perhaps so. But not today." He drew a deep breath, and said evenly, "I apologize, Glorfindel, for shouting at you in a manner unseemly for an advisor. I had no right. I am sorry," he finished with an outrush of breath.

Glorfindel nodded slowly. "I accept your apology and extend my own, Lord Erestor, for questioning against your wishes. Though I do wish you would tell me what the problem was."

"It is in the past."

"Indeed." There was an awkward silence, which Glorfindel broke after several moments. "We really are quite stupid sometimes, are we not?"

Erestor let out a short laugh, that seemed to only make the situation more awkward. "I believe," he added after a moment, "I believe that _they_ believe we hate each other very much." Summoning great strength of will, he sat up. Glorfindel stood and extended a hand to Erestor, who was once and for all _not_ looking down. He took the offered hand and pulled himself up.

Glorfindel was strangely reluctant to release Erestor's hand. Instead, he let go and clasped his forearm in a warrior's handshake. They met each other's eyes, and then Erestor well and truly turned and left with dignity.

-------

Supper that night was extremely informative, on some fronts. On others, it was amusing, but for some it was downright embarrassing.

It all began when an elfling -- a child whom Erestor had had his eye on as a future pupil for quite some time now -- tapped him on the shoulder. He looked down into serious eyes. "Hello, _pen-neth._ Is there something you would like to tell me?"

The child looked back up at him and smiled, an inncoent smile. Erestor was immediatly filled with foreboding. He was reminded uncomfortably of two _other_ former elflings -- both of whom were now grinning identical evil grins from across the table at this very moment. Beside them sat Lindir, the equally evil minstrel, whose grin was even wider, if that was even possible.

"Master Erestor," the elfling began, slowly. He looked over his shoulder for a moment, and Erestor was alarmed to see Lindir nod encouragingly.

"Yes?" Erestor asked, dreading the impending question.

"I wanted to know . . ." he looked a little nervous, then stood up taller and spoke loud enough for the whole table to hear. "I want to know if you really _do_ blush _that_ color." This last part he finished with a rush, and pointed across the table at Lothvaen's wife, who was wearing a bright scarlet dress, that Erestor in his plain robes found slightly painful on the eyes.

All the way at the other end of the table, Glorfindel's fork dropped with a clunk, and Elrond choked on his wine.

Erestor stared accusingly at Lindir. "Tell me you did not -- did not --" he stabbed viciously at a piece of venison, which skidded off his plate and sent sauce flying, "-- ah -- never mind."

Elrohir leaned across the table conspiritually. "Do go on, Erestor. Was Lindir supposed to have heard anything, perchance?"

"No! Of course not! And anyway, the idea is perposterous. I do _not_ blush." This last sentance was fairly shouted. Half of the hall looked up curiously. Glorfindel snorted. Elrond could see Lindir descreetly slipping under the table and handing something to the proud elfling, who seemed to think he'd said something immesurably funny. Beaming, the child trotted back to his parents with a cheery wave at Erestor, who was wondering why he had ever come to this meal in the first place. _I should have paid atention to the omens of bad happening that were already occuring and just remained in my study -- or better yet, in bed._

Just when he thought it couldn't get at all worse, it did.

From a distance, it seemed, he heard Elrond intone, "Glorfindel, do you know anything about this?" Then Erestor couldn't help it. He did something incredibly stupid. He stood up, knocking his chair over, and shouted loud enough for _everyone_ to hear:

"_NO!_"

Silence.

Then, someone began to giggle. And to laugh. Within seconds the whole hall was positively roaring with laughter, especially those who had only moments before heard Erestor tell them heatedly that he did _not_ blush.

Because Erestor, to his eternal shame, was blushing exactly the color Lothvaen's honored lady's dress.

Why me? Erestor thought morosely. There was only one thing left to do, which would barely save his increasingly low amount of dignity. He turned around, glowered at the collective hall in general, and -- almost tripping over his chair, but remaining upright all the same -- he swept out of the hall, with his robes billowing behind him.

Elrond looked at Glorfindel and raised an eyebrow. "Well, do you?"

"No," said Glorfindel with a perfectly straight face. He downed his full glass of miruvor and filled it again. "Not a clue."

-------------------------

Authors' notes:

Narthoron's Author's Notes: Yay! Another chapter completed! Actually two, but we're making you wait for that. Thanks for all of the reviews. You are wonderfully kind people who put up with our slow updates. Eithelien wrote most of this chapter -- most notable among her actions, was the description of Glorfindel that had both of us drooling. It's a scary place when the you drool at the description your own friend wrote, isn't it?

Eithelien's Author's Notes: So, so, so sorry to make you wait so long! It's my fault, really: I have no Internet anymore, so any work we do has to be done at Narthoron's computer. A weekend trip to the Coast was just what we needed, though, and it proved extremely productive.


	5. Bathing Woes part II

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien owns all characters you encounter here.

WARNING: Slash! Or I suppose rather the actions leading up to slash.

Chapter 5: Bathing Woes, Part II

The Last Homely House was usually a beautiful place, full of wonderful sounds, sights and scents. Erestor's study was currently not one of those places. Elves (being Elves) did not usually smell. However, even an Elf would start to smell a little after not taking a bath for an entire week (due to unmentionable experiences). Especially if said Elf had begun to make a habit of going down to the practice fields in the dead of night to swing large and heavy wooden swords at defenseless straw dummies he painted with large 'L' runes for 'Lindir' on their chests.

There was also 'G' runes for what most assumed to be Glorfindel, and 'P' runes that stood for the collective _Peredhil _family. Glorfindel's patrol found this infinitely amusing after finding the hacked-up remains of G-covered dummies. Whereupon Glorfindel ordered Elladan to go and inform Erestor that he must stop using the workshop's best paint and wasting straw that was best left to the horses. It wasn't as if his guards hadn't informed him who was behind the mutilation, of course.

Erestor had at least learned to some extent to control his blushing. He had made quite a project of it, and was very good at this point. He distinctly remembered learning to do exactly the same thing many centuries ago, however, and since this was ghastly humiliating, tried his hardest to ignore that fact.

But he really did stink, as Elladan blatantly informed him upon arriving in his study and flinging the door open dramatically.

Erestor looked up from his paperwork. "Please make it quick, _Peredhel,_" he said shortly. Elladan suddenly recalled that there had also been a dummy with a bright orange 'P' rune painted on its chest. There had been an arrow or two stuck in it, he remembered. He made a note to hide something nice and slimy in Erestor's bed the next time opportunity presented itself. Preferably something painted orange, _or a lovely shade of crimson, _he thought wickedly.

Then, he sniffed the air and grimaced. "Erestor, you stink. This whole _room_ stinks." He grinned. "You need a bath. I am sure _Glorfindel_ would agree."

Erestor slammed the door in his face, and the chortling Elf belatedly relayed Glorfindel's message to the advisor.

Since there was nobody around to see, Erestor blushed.

------------------------------

Erestor was plotting. Today, he was not plotting Glorfindel's downfall -- that would come in due time. Nor was he plotting Revenge upon the one who -- he assumed it was either Elladan or Elrohir -- had left a bright red painted frog in his bed. Not even the one who -- he supposed Lindir -- was responsible for tacking a note on the inside of his door which said _Glorfindel's Bathing Schedule_ in big, bold letters. He had, of course, taken it down immediately and filed it away in his reference notebook under 'EVIL', but Lindir wasn't to know that.

No, today he was plotting to take an unchallenged and undisturbed _bath_. He was fairly certain that none would challenge him, but disturbing him was another matter. Before the operation commenced, he investigated all of his soap bottles, and discovered two that were filled with hair dye (red and orange). He also installed a lock on his door, and laid a bow and arrow, as well as a sword next to his bathtub. He had no illusions concerning all overgrown elflings' abilities to pick said lock, but it was better then nothing. At least it would give him time to hurriedly get out and wrap a towel around himself if it came to that.

Erestor decided that lunch would be the best time to take his bath. That would be the time everyone was too busy stuffing their faces to notice his absence. Which wouldn't be all that strange due to his staying away for days after the infamous elfling encounter. He had also taken to dining occasionally among the lower members of the household in disguise.

This decided, he had only to wait until lunch.

-------------------------------

Midday. A time filled with many opportunities.

Erestor was forced to once again decline Elrond's offer to eat lunch with them.

"Erestor, I am almost positive they will have forgotten about . . . you know." This was a blatant lie, and both knew it.

"By the time the gossips of Imladris forget the day that an efling asked your chief counselor what color his blush is, three hundred years and another kinslaying will have passed," he told him.

The corner of Elrond's mouth twitched. "What is the excuse I shall make to the table _this_ meal, my friend?"

Erestor glowered. "You shall tell _them_ nothing, but _I_ am taking a bath." And with that dramatic statement, he left to collect several towels.

------------------------------

Erestor decided that whichever of the Valar -- he had a feeling it was Ulmo-- who had come up with the idea of bathing, was his new favorite deity.

The bath had gone wonderfully, with no interruptions, and feeling much better, he dressed and brushed out his long black hair, which was now rather clean. For that supper, he actually appeared at the high table, since half of the unmarried maidens at the other tables were staring at him. Erestor studiously ignored them, and fled to his rooms as soon as the meal was over with.

Lindir glanced at Glorfindel, who also seemed to be staring, his fork half out of his mouth. Lindir smirked, and Glorfindel seemed to come back to himself and set his utensil down, tipping back his chair onto its back feet.

"He has changed," he remarked thoughtfully. Lindir shrugged and swallowed his bite of tripe.

"Humility is good for him," he told the older Elf loftily, who shook his head sadly.

Next to Glorfindel, Elrond was busily deflecting questions about Erestor's spotty meal attendance record to Lothvaen. "But -- if he found it in himself to attend tonight, where was he at lunch?" the young councilor queried with a furrowed brow. "I do not understand." It was common knowledge that Lothvaen was very much in awe of the older Advisor, and was always trying to psycho-analyze his behavior -- with very little recent success. He didn't need to know it was considered old news, however. Lothvaen was very proud of his skill in the art of concealment. He was admittedly, very good -- but a trifle obvious where Erestor was concerned.

"Maybe he was finally taking a bath," Elladan said, grinning. Elrohir nudged Glorfindel in the ribs under the table. Glorfindel sprayed miruvor all over his plate and glared at the other Elf, who had unwittingly poked the Seneschal in an extremely ticklish spot. Elrohir pretended extreme innocence.

Glorfindel gave a _humph_, and turned away.

"I'm certain Erestor wouldn't mind knowing your ticklish spots," Lindir said soothingly to Glorfindel, "especially now that --" Glorfindel cuffed him soundly on the back of his head while sputtering.

"That is _quite_ enough out of you," he said in his most dangerous voice. He was quite sure that Lindir and at least one of his accomplices had been eavesdropping on the fateful Interruption, but it really did not need to become public knowledge. Even though, sooner or later, it was bound to be.

Even Lindir was intimidated by the Balrog-stare, and the rest of the meal was consumed in silence.

---------------------

Emboldened by his incredible success the day before, Erestor decided to be brash and bathe again the next day at a more normal time. He timed it an hour after supper, and even stayed till the end of the meal. He was very proud of himself, and felt like he was quickly regaining his normal, unflappable personality. He had briefly considered bathing at midday again, but _you MUST NOT be predictable. That's what they'll expect._

He told himself firmly that he was _not_ developing a borderline paranoid personality disorder, and decided that a midmorning bath would be acceptable.

Alas for Erestor, the worst did indeed happen.

The bath started out like any other. Unfortunately, it did not end that way. Elrond (curse his name) decided that he absolutely must have Erestor at that particular moment, to assist with translations of Khuzdul manuscripts.

Erestor was rather good at the obscure language of Dwarves, as Elrond remembered.

Glorfindel, recalling the insults that had been thrown at him earlier that week, did not argue when Elrond requested that he track the other down.

Glorfindel slowly wandered the corridors over to Erestor's end of the wing. He was a little concerned about Erestor, who was usually awake and working for the past four hours by this time. He reached Erestor's door, and knocked.

There was no answer.

Glorfindel had never been inside Erestor's chambers, so he was unsure of how to proceed. Trying for the obvious, he knocked again.

Once again, there was no answer.

Glorfindel tried the door. To his surprise, it opened quite easily. Glorfindel peered inside. "Erestor?" he called.

Silence.

Glorfindel shrugged his shoulders, and walked through what appeared to be Erestor's other study. Either that, or a small library. It was filled to the brim with books, scrolls and manuscripts, in any case. The next chamber was obviously where Erestor spent his nights. Glorfindel raised his eyebrow at the meticulously neat bed and surrounding area.

There was another door. Glorfindel tried it, and was surprised to see that it was locked.

"Erestor? Are you in there?" he called.

Inside of his bath chamber, Advisor Erestor inhaled a large amount of water in surprise. He came up sputtering and coughing. On the other end of the door, Glorfindel became even more concerned.

"Erestor, are you well?" he asked with a sense of alarm.

There was more coughing, and Glorfindel wondered if perhaps Erestor was drowning. He was now considering breaking down the door or picking the lock.

"Erestor, should I come in there?" he questioned through the door.

Erestor was recovered enough to shout -- very loudly -- "_No!_"

Glorfindel was confused. _What is Erestor doing in there?_ He raised his voice, "Are you sure?"

"Yes! Positive! For the Valar's sake _please_ don't open the door! I'll be out in a moment!"

Glorfindel could hear splashes and the sounds of muttered Dwarvish curses. "Exactly the reason I need you now," he informed the other.

After a moment, Erestor emerged from the other room, with a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, his black hair dripping water on the clean floor.

"What do you want?" he asked wearily. He glanced at Glorfindel, whose eyes were rather larger than usual, and most definitely not fixed on Erestor's face. They were instead busy roaming over Erestor's chest. Glorfindel swallowed.

"When did you ever have time to develop muscles like _that_?" he blurted out.

Oops.

"I said-- _what did you just ask me?_"

Then something momentous happened. Glorfindel blushed.

Erestor's eyes widened, and then he actually smirked. "Go on, Seneschal."

"I . . . nothing. I was merely coming to ask- I mean to tell you that you- I mean that Elrond wanted to tell you that . . . Ai, Valar," he closed his eyes, and tried to speak rationally. "Elrond wants you to translate something Dwarvish," he said trying to keep all his nouns straight.

"Well then, could he not have waited for a few minutes? I was _trying_ to take a bath," Erestor said, a little irritated.

"Yes, well . . . ." Glorfindel made the mistake of opening his eyes. He was immediately tongue-tied. _Well, then I would have missed this lovely sight,_ he thought to himself. He was fairly certain he didn't say it loud, and if he did, Erestor choose to ignore it.

"Fine," he said shortly. "Let me dress, and I will be there presently. Wait for me in the next room," he ordered Glorfindel.

Glorfindel nodded weakly, and stumbled into the first room he had entered, where he slowly sat down upon a chair, with his head in his hands.

------------------

Eithelien's Author's Note: Hope the between-update time was satisfactory! Would be nice to get another one out next week, and we shall try to do so. Can't keep poor Glorfindel waiting out there too long . . . and stay tuned for more Evil!Lindir!

Narthoron's Author's Note: We are so proud of ourselves for actually updating . . . I may have to cry.

Or just read slash instead. Either one works. Hmmm . . . . thereputic slash? Interesting idea . . .

Anyway.

Thanks for all the reviews and we're wonderfully happy that you people seem to be enjoying our labours of matchmaking such lovely elves.


	6. Messengers' Terrifying Duties

DISCLAIMER: The characters featured in the story belong to Tolkien. Please don't sue us; we are only gathering fun from the angstyness of the elves.

FOREWARNING: This fic is about to take an extremely angsty turn. If you've got a copy of the _Tale of Years_, or are just very well versed in timelines, then here's a hint: this fic takes place in TA 2509. We'll try to incorporate humor as well as the dark stuff, but it couldn't be helped, really. The plot bunnies made us. Anyway, enjoy . . . .

WARNING: This fic contains SLASH. Since there have been warnings at the beginning of every chapter, I don't exactly see how a certain flamer could have missed this, but we'll tolerate their blindness - for now. (We are especially confused since the flame (regarding the subject of slash in general) was for the fifth chapter. That seems to indicate that they must have read the other _four_ chapters. Interesting, is it not?) Eithelien says: "Story! Story! It's more-er funner and grammatically correct-er than the warnings and disclaimers, anyway!"

**Chapter Six: The Slightly Terrifying Duties Of A Messenger**

While Erestor was busy pulling on his robes, taking his time (to irritate Glorfindel), Glorfindel tried to push the fact that he had just asked the advisor potentially incriminating question into the very back of his head. Unbeknownst to them, a messenger scout had arrived at the Last Homely House.

Said messenger scout had been, in fact, lurking just outside Erestor's chambers (though he did not yet know it). He was busy fretting about the state of his trousers (very muddy), the state of his message (very crumpled), and the state of his whereabouts (very lost). That is, until he heard a very distinct and barely-remembered voice through the door to his right:

"_When did you have time to develop muscles like that?"_ Melpomaen forgot about his trousers at once. He was rather drawn to gossip, like porcupines to squishy things, and oh! If he could just place that voice . . . golden hair, golden hair, yes, that's what he remembered about it. There was a very long pause from inside the room.

"_Go on, Seneschal._" Melpomaen gulped. Now, _that_ voice, he remembered. Oh, no. Oh, _no. . . . _Lords Erestor and Glorfindel. When Melpomaen had last heard Lord Erestor, he had been barely more than an Elfling, and had been quite preoccupied with the task of running away from the Last Homely House as fast as possible.

He smiled. How lovely! It seemed these two (terrifying) elves were having a . . . confrontation, of sorts! Melpomaen stood stock still in front of the doorway, his sharp ears picking up all sorts of interesting details. Lord Glorfindel appeared to be in a bit of a bind.

Melpomaen was contemplating all sorts of possible meanings to the conversation he had just heard, when the door slammed open all of a sudden, and a red-and-black whirlwind a hundred feet high thundered menacingly out. Melpomaen shrieked. Lord Erestor was just as frightening as he had been when the younger Elf was a child.

"_Lord_, Glorfindel - are you coming, or are you not?" he snapped. Melpomaen tried to hide behind a tapestry. The other Elf looked at him curiously. "I beg your pardon, master. . . ."

"Melpomaen!" squeaked the messenger, and tried not to tremble.

Erestor blinked, "Melpomaen . . . now why does that name sound familiar . . ."

"Ab- absolutely no reason at all!"

Erestor had to hide a grin. Apparently this Melpomaen was one of the multitudes of Elves who were terrified of him - probably he had chastised him rather over-severely some time in his youth.

"Advisor, I'm sure this is not the best time to terrorize young visiting elves," Glorfindel remarked as he stepped out of the door.

Melpomaen blanched, and Erestor glared at the seneschal. "Ignore the buffoon, young Melpomaen; he does not know any better."

Glorfindel blinked. He could not remember the last time someone had had the courage to call him a buffoon. He could think of only two who were currently alive and would dare such a thing, Elrond and Erestor . . . Oh, right. Without realizing it, he smiled dotingly at Erestor, who gave him an extremely odd look.

"Ah, Master Erestor, do you think you could perhaps guide me in the general direction of Lord Elrond?" Melpomaen blushed furiously. "I have a message, from the Lady Celebrían and company."

"Then it is a _doubly _wonderful chance to meet you here, friend Melpomaen!" Glorfindel exclaimed happily. "My Dwarvish expert here and I were about to assist my lord with translations. If you would be so good as to accompany us, we shall guide you to his presence."

"Why 'doubly'?" Erestor asked tiredly. He had a feeling he was not going to like the answer.

"His blush is exactly the same color as yours, my dear," the grinning Seneschal answered promptly, then reddened. "That is, my dear _advisor._"

Melpomaen made a distinct noise that sounded like a muffled giggle. Erestor swung around to look at him. Melpomaen stopped immediately. Erestor looked back at Glorfindel and said softly, "As is yours, my dear seneschal."

Glorfindel blushed.

_Red Elves, red Elves,_ Melpomaen thought. He had no idea where he was going, what he was doing, except he was with an absolutely _terrifying_ red-and-black Elven tornado - _Red Elves, red Elves._ He giggled hysterically.

Both Glorfindel and Erestor stared at him.

"What did you _do_ to the poor elfling?" Glorfindel asked, with a hint of awe in his voice.

Erestor looked affronted. "I _did _nothing to him. I can only suppose that he has heard of my overly done reputation as a- wait," he turned to Melpomaen, recognition dawning in his eyes. "Were you the one who spilled ink all over Elrond's reports in my office around thirty years ago?" He frowned, trying to remember.

Melpomaen gulped, and tried to stop his giggling.

"Perhaps I was a little overzealous, then. Do forgive me, Melpomaen. Here we are." Erestor yanked the door to Elrond's study open abruptly without knocking and swept in. Glorfindel followed, rolling his eyes. Behind them trailed one gaping Elven scout-and-sometimes-messenger.

Elrond lounged in his chair, feet upon his desk with a glass of wine in his hand, paperwork forgotten on the floor. Erestor wrinkled his nose and gave him a pointed look. Elrond wiggled his toes like an insubordinate Elfling, but did remove his feet. Glorfindel smiled. This was a silly side of Elrond that was rarely seen anymore. Glorfindel, who certainly knew the lord better than anybody else in Imladris, had not seen him acting . . . well, _frivolous_ since Celebrían had left to visit Círdan months ago.

"Khuzdûl?" barked Erestor, who was actually enjoying playing the bullying advisor. Elrond raised an eyebrow and pointed a ring-covered finger at the pile on the floor. Erestor sighed as he swooped down to grab the papers and stood up straight again. He moved his lips silently then tossed the papers carelessly aside. They flew toward Melpomaen, who, amazingly, caught them with lightning reflexes.

"You should have told me it was _this,_ Elrond. I could have recited it to Glorfindel and still be enjoying a hot bath right now."

"You know what they say, then?"

"'Elrond's candelabras weren't important enough to waste time destroying anyway.'"

"_Erestor!"_

"Yes?"

"Are they _important?_"

"Not unless you wish Imladris to turn into a Dwarven gold mine."

"Now that you mention it. . . ."

"Good." Erestor snatched the parchment back from Melpomaen and tossed them in the fire. He turned then to Glorfindel, raising an eyebrow. "_Yes, Seneschal_?" he questioned.

Glorfindel, who had opened his mouth to make a suitable reply to the statement regarding baths, wisely closed his mouth and shook his head, "Nothing, most revered advisor," he said.

"Good," Erestor replied. He looked at Elrond. "Now if I may take my leave?"

"In a moment," Elrond told him. "Let us hear, first, what your worthy prey – I mean, young friend – has to say to us." Melpomaen colored. Erestor grinned, showing teeth.

Elrond looked over at Melpomaen. "Well?"

"My Lord Elrond, I. . . ." he stammered, and then cleared his throat, trying to collect the last shreds of his scattering dignity. Having gathered himself, he assumed a pose proper for an official messenger, muddy trousers or no muddy trousers. Elrond looked at him, amused.

"The Lady Celebrían sends her greetings, lords, and bids you to know that she and her party are coming to Imladris, tomorrow or the nextdayand-"

"The Lady Celebrían is coming home? Now?" Elrond exclaimed, he jumped up and quickly became entangled between desk, paper, drawers, and chair. He was saved from falling flat on his back only by Glorfindel's quick reflexes, and simply continued to talk excitedly, with Glorfindel supporting him at the armpits. "Quick, Erestor! We must make ready a feast! Alert the cooks, the sentries, the –" He cut himself off in mid-sentence and mid-wild-gesture, noticing all three of his companions were staring bemusedly at their lord. "Yes?"

"Ah – you may not have noticed, but they are extremely unlikely that they will be here within the next twenty-four hours." Glorfindel let Elrond slump lopsidedly as he patted the dark head.

"Let me go," growled Elrond.

"As you wish," Glorfindel replied blandly, and let Elrond drop to the floor.

Further Authors' Notes:

Eithelien's A/N: Oh my, we are so sorry to have posted this chapter so late! Please withhold all pitchforks until we at least finish the story. Also, thank you for all the wonderful reviews!

Narthoron's A/N: Sorry! We didn't mean to post this so late! Honestly, we will try to do better from now on. We seem to have a lovely amount of three-day weekends coming up this month, so hopefully we can get some work done. Also, I know this chapter didn't have much . . . how shall I put this? Action? But do not worry, it is coming! We promise!

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews and comments! We are glad you seem to be enjoying our story so far. Let us hope it stays that way.


	7. Fire and Festival

**Chapter 7: Fire and Festival**

**Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all, no profit made, please don't sue. Thank you, have a nice day.**

It had been confirmed by many inhabitants that Imladris had never looked or smelled better. A feast was at hand, and not just any feast. This was the feast for Celebrían's homecoming, and Elrond had ordered it to be the best Imladris could provide. The world, it seemed, was full of insatiable cheer, and Elrond was tired of waiting. He wanted his wife home _now_ and for everything to be absolutely perfect. So it was that the general populace was in a very, very good mood, and full of anticipation for the upcoming celebration. All except for oneElf. Being the coordinator for the entire thing, Erestor was more concerned with getting everything to work, than with being excited about it.

"Elladan! Put the pies on the _left _hand corner of the- no! Not like- good, now I want you and Lindir to move the tablecloth a little bit toward the right . . . only a _bit _I said! _Valar_, I'll have to do it myself! Get out of the way!" Erestor shouted in alarm and shoved his Lord's son to the side.

"Gladly," muttered Elrond's firstborn. He wiped his face with his arm, and looked over at Lindir who mouthed something regarding Erestor's need for personal space and that the situation would become much better as a whole if they distanced themselves a little from the proceedings – the whole length of Imladris would be a sufficient barrier, he thought. And with this, Elladan agreed. As they were leaving the general area, they met a very contrite looking Glorfindel who appeared to be covered in chocolate pudding, going the opposite direction. They stopped.

"What happened to you?" Lindir asked, sounding mildly awed.

Glorfindel did not answer, but as he slumped past them, they caught murmured words in Quenya that sounded suspiciously like "_Erestor"_ and "_only . . . accident."_

Since Elladan always liked being helpful, he patted the intrepid Seneschal on the shoulder as he passed and said soothingly, "Of _course_ it was an accident. We would never have thought otherwise."

Elladan always said afterward that Glorfindel's response was entirely uncalled for, though Lindir usually contested that argument. Either way, the half-Elf found himself on the floor very quickly, with Glorfindel's chocolate-drenched rear end in his face.

"Elladan, I am really not in the mood right now," Glorfindel growled. "What would you say if I told you to go to your balcony, and – _yow!_" He leaped off of Elladan in a hurry. "Sadistic _pen-neth_, you still have sharp teeth." Elladan was presented with a hand gesture that Glorfindel probably would not have given him when he was twenty. The blond Elf passed through the doors to the hall, only to come out again in a hurry.

"You didn't tell me _he_ was in there, you – _ouch!_ No kicking!" With that, Glorfindel disappeared behind a hanging in the wall, and a muffled voice told the two younger Elves he probably wouldn't be coming out again for a while.

"I'm not here! Can you understand that? Do you hear me? No? Good!"

"I'm not entirely convinced either one of them have all their wits together," Lindir said slowly. Elladan shook his head sadly.

"I may have to agree with you on that one," he said and lifted up his tunic to show Lindir the stain forming on it. "I mean, look at this- Naneth!"

"Naneth?" said Lindir confused, "What are you talking about? I'm not your- oh, I see." Lindir suddenly registered the figure standing behind him with an amused expression on her face. He turned, bowed (a rare occurrence indeed,) and smiled. "Welcome home, my Lady."

Celebrían smiled back, "And a pleasure it is to be home, Lindir." She turned to Elladan, a frown on her fair face, "Elladan dear, why do you have pudding all down your front?"

Elladan looked down at himself in consternation, wondering why he always appeared to be in a mess whenever his Naneth was there to see, and then, with a rather impish grin in his Mother's direction took off his shirt with flourish and threw it at the hanging Glorfindel 'wasn't' behind like an impudent elfling. "Pudding? What pudding? Do you see any pudding, Lindir?" Elladan asked innocently, turning to the minstrel.

Indeed, Lindir noted, there was a bit of pudding on Elladan's nose, but he decided to let it lie for the time being, because just as Celebrían enclosed Elladan in a warm hug, an emotional tidal wave named Elrond burst down the hall.

"_Celebrían_! Ai, _Celebrían_!" Elrohir followed his father, although at a bit more sedate of a pace. He stopped a few feet away from the madly hugging couple and stared at his hastily released brother. He looked at Lindir.

"So Lindir, finally made a move then?"

"Elrohir!" admonished Celebrían. "Come here and give me a hug, before teasing your siblings and old friends." Elrohir complied, somehow managing to pry his mother away from Elrond's embrace and lifting her high into the air.

Predictably, this set Celebrían shrieking for Elrohir to put her down immediately or there _would_ be consequences and that he _wasn't_ too old to be sent to bed without any supper, no matter no matter that he had passed his majority several hundred years ago. Unfortunately for her, the whole effect was rather ruined by the laughter spilling from her lips in between sentences.

"Where is Glorfindel?" Celebrían enquired curiously, after Elrohir finally endeavored to put her down in the face of Elrond's eyebrows which clearly said, _this is my job_.

Nobody _ever_ argued with the Eyebrows.

"Not here!" came the voice from behind the curtains.

"Ah, he is . . . indisposed," Elladan said after a moment's pause.

"Yes, he and Erestor . . . ." Lindir began.

"Finally had it out then, did they?" Celebrían asked in mild curiosity. "Which one is dead?"

"Er, that wasn't _precisely _what I meant," Lindir floundered, looking to Elladan for assistance. Elladan wasn't paying much attention to conversation anymore, however. He was simply standing and smiling, and as Lindir looked at his friend, a tear of joy trickled down Elladan's cheek. Elladan, who loved his mother with all his heart, Elladan, who was always so alive in his sincerity and joy, Elladan, the most beautiful person Lindir had ever known.

Lindir stepped forward and wrapped Elladan in a brotherly hug, pressing the other's face into his shoulder. Elladan wept unashamedly, along with his mother, father, and brother. Lindir sniffed, he knew how much the twins missed their mother, and Elrond his wife when she was gone, but rarely did he see the happy moment when the family was finally reunited. For in truth, it was a sight to behold. If he had been a painter rather than a minstrel, he would have considered running for his paints and some cloth at that very moment, in order to capture the beautiful scene forever.

When Elladan finally looked up, Lindir's breath caught in his throat. Elladan's dark hair caught in the light, and a slight bit of red highlight was suddenly dancing directly in front of Lindir's face. Grey eyes peered down into his own and all the half formed thoughts of his possible career as a famous painter fled his mind. He started to open his mouth and then shut it again, terrified of what might come out of it. Something of this must have shown on his face, for Elladan's look suddenly turned quizzical. He bent his head down so that it as even with Lindir's ear and asked concernedly if he was all right.

Lindir tried not to shiver. Elladan's warm breath was tickling his neck and he found it hard to think straight. He was suddenly overcome with the most irrational urge to kiss his friend, and he tried very hard not to notice that Elladan's chest was pressed tightly against his body. He was also starting to feel rather sympathetic toward Erestor, for if Glorfindel was even half as beautiful as Elladan he probably would have had difficulty suppressing his blushing as well.

As it was, he simply settled for licking the last bit of pudding off of the tip of Elladan's nose. Elladan gasped, Elrohir laughed, and Lindir stepped back with his hands on Elladan's shoulders. Something major had changed between them. Lindir wasn't sure if Elladan knew it yet, but then again, Elladan had always had problems recognizing this sort of thing.

"Pudding's gone," he announced breathlessly, with a big smile. It would take a bit of effort to pretend everything was normal, but Lindir was hanged if he'd let Elladan off with his ignorance for too long.

The moment might have turned slightly awkward if not for the distraction that was provided when Erestor came skidding out of the door they had been standing outside of to inform them all that the kitchen was on fire.

"So wonderful to be home again," Celebrían sighed, and rested her head against Elrond's shoulder as she watched an irate Erestor race back inside the kitchen. "Now all we need is –"

"Glorfindel!" came the inevitable shout from inside. "I told you to watch the bread and inform me when it was done! Where are you, you . . . I knew this would happen!"

* * *

After the fire had been dealt with (it had only been a small one, and easily put down after a few buckets of water had been tossed on it), and Erestor had been given a flask of Miruvor (which he immediately threw at Glorfindel who of course ducked), the feast was ready to commence.

That was, it was ready to commence after the speeches of course. Elrond, who had not yet let go of Celebrían's hand, was first in line.

"My dear elves," he began. "It is with the utmost pleasure that I tell you to eat as much as you wish, and to make merry and to of course become inebriated if it so pleases you, because _this_ is my wife's coming home feast and all should be as happy as myself on this wonderful, wonderful night!" Then he sat down to a thunderous applause, looking quite pleased with himself (and still keeping his wife's hand captive) but abruptly stood up again. "Also, I would like to thank my dear friend Erestor for making this night possible! Thank you Erestor, without your help the kitchen would have burned to the ground." And he sat down for the second time, and began to eat, while Erestor tried very hard not to duck under the table due to the unwanted, even if momentary attention.

Elrond's food intake signaled to the rest of the gathered company that such an activity was acceptable and all the elves began to consume rather large amounts of food and of course wine. Erestor, who had had a very trying day, was already on his sixth glass by the time the music and dancing began. Lindir was leading the musicians and currently playing a rather upbeat tune perfect for the occasion.

Glorfindel, who had also had a very difficult day, was only on his fifth cup by the time the music and dancing began, and so although he was feeling a bit unsteady, it wasn't so bad so that he could not dance. And dance he did. Feeling his blood begin to rush, and adrenaline pound in the rhythm of the music, he began to move his feet, pushed back his chair and pivoted around to join the dance floor.

Celebrían, noticing this whispered to her husband and soon enough the pair stood up to keep their friend company. Eventually most of the high table had been emptied and all were talking, laughing and dancing. All that is, except Erestor. Far gone on his eighth glass of wine, he could do barely anything but stare bleary eyed at the dancers. They were quite spectacular, he thought. That one in front in particular with the red garment, and the dark hair . . . she was very pretty.

Just as his drunken mind was trying to conceive of a way to approach her that wouldn't result in making a total fool of himself, he was approached by another. This one was tall, and decidedly not female.

"And why aren't you dancing, Counselor?" intoned a deep and familiar voice.

Erestor struggled to remember who the voice belonged to. He was sure he could place the sound . . . he had heard it before . . . . As the owner of said voice bent close to him he caught a whiff of metal and hay. Ah-ha, so this mysterious visitor was Glorfindel! He was sure that this information ought to bother him for some reason, but couldn't for the life of him remember why. What had Glorfindel done again? And why couldn't he see him properly?

"Come on, Erestor, you've had enough to drink, it's high time you came and danced with us," Glorfindel said, in what seemed to Erestor to be an unnecessarily demanding tone. However, due to his drunken and rather unstable state, the Counselor had no chance to protest as Glorfindel forcibly pulled him from his chair and onto the dance floor.

Once there, Erestor (having drunk eight glasses of miruvor) was far from able to stand up on his own. He dealt with this problem quite easily by simply leaning against his brawny dance partner, who was having far too much fun to notice that he was supporting another's weight in addition to his own. Erestor approved of this arrangement very much. It was, he thought, a most relaxing way to spend an evening. Slowly, his head began to clear a little, and as he did so he noticed several things. One was that Elrond and Celebrían seemed to have vanished. Another was that Elladan was not dancing, but staring into the group of musicians for some obscure reason, and the third was that two of Glorfindel's buttons were undone.

Erestor did not mind this at all, in fact, the undone buttons gave him a fine view of part of Glorfindel's chest. And who in their right mind would not approve of that?

Although many of the wildly dancing elves were exchanging partners, it seemed that Glorfindel did not mind being with Erestor for the entirety of the feast. Either that or he had realized that without his support, the highly regarded chief Advisor would have fallen into a heap on the floor by this time.

Eventually, however, the feast began to end, as all things do, and soon there were only a dozen or so elves left in the Hall, and the music halted and Glorfindel was forced to stop dancing. This resulted in him letting go of Erestor, who swayed unsteadily for a moment before falling over onto the table (knocking several goblets off of it) and then sliding down to the floor where he remained. He tilted his head and looked up at Glorfindel in consternation. "That's odd," he said.

Glorfindel, who was not exactly sober himself was attempting to reconcile this younger seeming version of Erestor with the one he usually worked (and fought) with on a day to day basis, so Lindir, who had managed to remain un-inebriated decided to take charge.

"Glorfindel, why don't you escort Erestor to his rooms and then take yourself to your bed?" the minstrel suggested. "You seem a little overwrought."

Glorfindel glanced down in time to see Erestor pass out on the floor, and decided that Lindir was correct. "Aye, I do think it would be a good idea to get Erestor to his rooms," he stated, conveniently forgetting to mention his own drunkenness. "I will take him there." And with that said, he leaned down, scooped up Erestor in his powerful arms, and strode off in the direction of the west wing of Imladris.

* * *

If Glorfindel had not been the strong and courageous warrior that he was, it is very doubtful that he would have gotten all the way to Erestor's chambers while carrying the completely limp advisor in his arms. As it was, he had made it to Erestor's chambers and into them before actually dropping the advisor, who was a lot heavier than he looked. Luckily for Erestor, he had been deposited on his bed, so there was little chance of injury. But still, being dropped was quite enough to awaken him, as Glorfindel rapidly discovered when Erestor opened one eye and yawned.

"Glorfindel? Why are we in my chambers?" he questioned curiously. "Ai, what a feast that was." He tried to sit up and shake his head, but instead fell backward again. "I do believe I am quite drunk."

"Yes, well, don't worry about it, so is everyone else," Glorfindel reassured him. He clambered onto Erestor's bed, and leaned against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling dreamily. Since the wine had loosened his tongue, he spoke without care. "It reminds me of the feasts we used to have in my youth, when during the Gates of Summer we would look out over the gleaming towers and see the most beautiful sunsets that one could ever imagine." He turned to Erestor and his eyes grew misty. "I miss my old home, I miss it terribly." He turned back to look at the ceiling once more and the room was silent for a moment, and then Erestor said something totally unexpected.

"Your hair is like the sun."

Glorfindel blinked, and turned over to look at the other in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your hair, it is like the sun in the summer afternoon, when everything is soft, gold and silk." He sighed, and closed his eyes. "May I touch it?"

Glorfindel, who was extremely baffled by this point, could only nod. However, realizing that Erestor could not see him, he cleared his throat and said rather awkwardly, "If you wish, Meldir."

Erestor reached out a hand, and gently patted the golden strands before letting his five fingered appendage drop to his side again. Glorfindel could tell by the Advisor's steady breathing that he had fallen asleep again. This realization was rapidly followed by the thought that he would like to do the same thing. Sleeping sounded very appealing at the moment. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that waking up in Erestor's bed the next morning was probably going to be rather awkward.

Authors' Notes:

Eithelien: I know it's been a long time, and I can . . . (Narthoron would like to state here that this is where the note did, in fact end, because it was hastily scrawled on a piece of paper while studying, and then Eithelien became . . . distracted. Narthoron would also like to add, that she suspects it would have ended with something along the lines of, 'I love you all,' or 'I can explain why we were so late in updating.' On a third note, Narthoron _could_ call Eithelien, but for the fact that it is getting late and she is lazy.)

Narthoron: Oh, wow. Look, it's that chapter that we started around three months ago and never had time to beta. Here it is! So, first I shall tell you all that we are very sorry about the lack of updates (as is standard procedure). Then, I will promise you all more updates sooner (as is also standard procedure). This time, however I do have specific reasons why this will be happening (if this is boring you then just be content that we'll update sooner and leave it at that). Since the term will end in about seven days (counting finals) we will soon have a reasonable amount of time on our hands to work on this story. We do have it all plotted out on a scrap of paper somewhere, down to the very last chapter. We will finish this fic! It just may take a bit.

ALSO: Thank you all reviewers and people who emailed us to ask about our fic. You're partly the reason we shall continue to update. I hope this chapter was enjoyable! We love you all! (Honestly, we do.)


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